What She Never Tried to Be
by fanohermione
Summary: The musings of three men on one particular subject: Hermione Granger. Hr/R fic but without Ron appearances. Rated T to be safe.


A/N: this is a little something i've been messing with for a while and decided to just post it. I don't pretend to own harry potter or anything affiliated with it.

p.s.: I haven't posted in a while, I'm not sure how page breaks work so…good luck figuring it all out if it didn't show up as planned. ;)

**Neville Longbottom**

I want to tell her that she deserves better anyways. She deserves someone who would never hurt her. Someone who would do anything just to be around her. Not like him. He takes you for granted, I'd say. I wouldn't tell her that she's brilliant or loyal, she knows that already. If I had the nerve I'd tell her she's funny, but I can't tell her that because it would only lead to curious questions; she's never told _me_ any jokes. I just hear her, when she's with them. I always hear her because I'm paying attention. Like the time when she told them that trying to get them to do their work on time was like Hagrid trying to teach the Giant Squid to tap dance. They laughed. I tried not to.

I could try to convince her that he doesn't fancy her, but I'd be lying, and really it would just make her sadder. If I actually had any Gryffindor courage I'd tell her that I could be the one to be there for her. But I don't.

So instead of saying any of those things, when she comes to me, I offer her a sugar quill. I can blame it on the shock, really. Why doesn't she go to Harry? Or Ginny? Why me? Probably because I'm safe. I have no emotional bearing to her. I still wonder, after nearly six years, how can she not tell?

She doesn't say, 'Neville, I'm sad, Ron's gone and broke my heart.' Not even close. She doesn't get all weepy or ask me for romantic advice. She simply sat at my lonely table one afternoon and did her schoolwork with me instead of them. And she just kept coming back. It's not every evening. If she can get Harry on his own she usually sits with him and if Ron returns from sucking face with Lavender, Hermione will pack up to the girls' dorm and stay there.

It takes me by surprise when she brings him up one night, right after Christmas holiday.

"Neville," she begins incensed. "What does he see in her? Is it just the way she looks?"

I can practically hear the cogs in her brain turning. She's considering altering her appearance to get his attention.

"No!" I blurt before my brain has time to catch up.

"Well, what is it then?!" She's exasperated. Spinning her body back towards mine and slamming her book on the table. I try to quickly come up with some excuse as to why Ron would choose Lavender over Hermione without actually insulting Hermione. It's an impossible feat.

"Look, Hermione." I start, buying myself an insignificant amount of time. "Yeah, she's good looking, and maybe that's why he's with her," Hermione throws her head into the crook of her elbow on the table. "But that doesn't mean that you're not!" I squeak out, simultaneously cringing in anticipation of her reaction. She groans. Somehow I knew the "but you're pretty too!" card wouldn't fly with her. "Listen," I try again. "You just have to be strong, Hermione. This doesn't mean that he doesn't fancy you, he's just…going through a phase or something…" I finish lamely. I've never been good with words and when Hermione's involved, well, you may as well count me out.

My eloquent words of advice have little to no effect on her. She sighs deeply and straightens her back to full potential and continues her work as if the conversation never happened. I shamelessly take the opportunity to stare at her, as if I don't spend enough of my time on the subject. She's pretending like she doesn't care but I can tell that she's not actually revising her essay. Trust me, in the last two months I've memorized the way she works. I can't help it. Maybe if I study her as much as she studies her schoolwork, or Ron for that matter, I'll begin to understand the way to her heart. But in all honesty, even if I find it, Ron would murder me if I so much as laid a finger on her.

**Cormac McLaggen**

I can't say I was surprised when Granger asked me to go with her to Slug's little get-together. I knew she would catch on eventually. I dressed in my best regardless. The custom tailored suit my father had given me as an early Christmas present worked perfectly. It hugged my body so nice I almost couldn't take my eyes away from my own reflection. Granger was gonna fall right into my hands tonight, literally.

I wait in the dorm for a couple minutes past the time we agreed to meet, just to make sure she sees me first. I stroll down the dorm staircase, anticipating her to greet me enthusiastically. I mean, honestly, she's lucky I agreed to go with her in the first place. As I reached the common room I was greeted with, well, nothing. I spot her by the portrait hole, wringing her hands anxiously. I clear my throat loudly, she's obviously so nervous about whether I would actually show or not she hadn't noticed my arrival. She spins around and I can tell it's going to be an interesting evening. She's wearing a red dress that's just past the point of indecent. She doesn't look exactly pleased to see me at first, but her face quickly transforms into a beaming smile. I saunter over to her and grip her around the waist, kissing her cheek. She glances over to the common room, surely making sure everyone saw that I was her date and I place my palm flat against her lower, well, _very_ lower, back and lead her out through the portrait hole and through the corridors towards the party.

There are so many tales I could play out for her it's hard to pick which ones really highlight my skill and superb physical condition. I'm sure I've picked the right ones 'cuz she's practically speechless. Her eyes are flicking around the room; I can tell she's waiting for the precise moment to pounce on me. She won't have to wait long 'cuz I wrap up a story about saving two goals in one dive and I swoop in. She gasps in surprise; surely she didn't expect me to make the first move. Her shock extends longer than I had anticipated but I work through it, kissing her fiercely. Suddenly, it hits me. She's never been with a man like this before. The thought sparks something inside of me. I have an intense need to teach her. To show her exactly how brilliant someone like me can be. I lick her lips and shove my tongue in her mouth, simultaneously groping her tits. Her dress really is perfect for the occasion.

Suddenly, Granger excuses herself, panting. She's so overwhelmed it's adorable. I smirk to myself as I watch her retreating arse. I snatch a snack off a passing tray and imagine the remainder of our evening. A brisk walk to the astronomy tower. I'd sacrifice my suit coat for her to lay on to view the stars. We get a little closer to beat the cold. Yes, it's definitely going to be an interesting night.

**Viktor Krum**

I watch her dancing with the Weasley boy, wondering for the hundredth time this evening if it was him all along. She had hesitated to give me a reply when I very first spoke to her, offering my hand to accompany her to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts. I had questioned then, just as I question now. Of course the only difference between the times is I have chosen to let her go, he has not. Seeing her now, for the first time in two years, I am doubting my decision. She is breath-taking. Her gown hugs her yet floats about her, but it is her smile that I am yearning for. She gives it so naturally to the Weasley boy. I can tell that they are new in love, because the way he looks at her now, like he's memorizing her face, and the shy way he is grabbing her waist, it is the same as I was towards her during our quiet evenings in late winter.

The summer, however, it suits her. She is tanned but not in a style which suggests that she tried to be. Most probably she sat too long for too many days studying in the sun. I gulp down some Firewhiskey as she tugs the boy closer to which he responds by crushing her gown up in his fists at her waist. I sullenly think that I would never behave so rashly as to nearly ruin her dress. However, I watch as her shoulders heave with the deep breath she's just taken and I begin to notice that they're not even moving to the beat of the music. This fact bothers me a great deal and I swig the foul liquid the English wizards attempt to pass off as a proper drink.

Quite suddenly I've lost track of her. It's just Weasley standing on the dance floor like he's been hit over the head with a Beater's bat. I follow his gaze; he does not appear to be looking at anything at all. I excuse myself from the young wizard who has been tirelessly detailing my professional career as if I hadn't been there. Maybe she has gone to get refreshments. Or perhaps she has gone to visit with Potter. I search the bar for her slightly tamed hair skimming slim shoulders. She is not there. I know where Potter is sitting and I make my way to his table via the outskirts of the tent. Just as quickly as I lost sight of her a blue patronus appears in the middle of the dance floor and announces that the Minister of Magic has been assassinated. And that the assassins are coming. I find that my wand is already drawn and I am already searching for her before the message is complete.

The tent is thrown so suddenly into chaos I can hardly tell who are wedding guests and who are Death Eaters, who appeared just as the patronus disappeared. Stunning spells and Unforgivables fly by my head and I send back what I am able to without harming the wrong people. I lift my head up from behind an overturned table to scan the crowd for her. Instead I find Weasley, and judging by his horror-stricken face, he cannot find her either. I duck down again, a jet of purple light nearly taking my head clean off. When I rise again, this time to punish who ever thought to curse me, I see her. She appears so terrified my heart lurches within my chest. But by some miracle her eyes meet mine, however my presence across the war torn wedding tent does nothing to soothe her. Some strange instinct in me shifts my eyes to where I know Weasley to be, and hers follow. Her expression is one of relief and, I cannot deny it, love. I see now that she has Potter in tow and for one brief moment I realize that I have saved them. I know now that she would not have left that tent without Weasley, and her grip on Potter is beyond strong, of that I am sure. I am just as sure that she is more than capable of taking care of herself, but my need to usher her to safety has only diminished slightly.

I find myself suddenly knocked back by a stunning charm, and I am thinking of her safety as I rise quickly stun my attacker through the wall of the tent. When I look back to her, she is gone. I push away that thought that the last time I will see her, she was full of love for another man.

A/N: there was supposed to be a Ron bit here at the end but after all this I just couldn't pick the right moment. So, in essence, this is incomplete. Maybe someday I'll add the extra bit, who knows. Thanks for reading, I hope you gained some enjoyment out of it, but if not, that's okay too. =)


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